Perfection
by Bitter Red Irony
Summary: [COMPLETE] insight into the mind of a broken child, as Draco is alone in the bathroom with nothing but his memories and the hatred he feels towards Hermione and the world she lives in ::Darkfic::


_Perfection_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the few Harry potter characters I have in this story, al past events that you recognise don't belong to me either.

Draco Malfoy sat alone in the dark prefect bathroom leaning against the cold tiles on the wall, his head span as he remembered all the times he had sat like this as a child,

_knees tucked high under his chin, his body swaying to the rhythmic motions that filled his head, as he listened to the shouts and screams that echoed through out the manor. _

_He would sing softly to himself as he rocked back and forth, to the nursery rhymes that his mother told him late at night when his father was away._

_Soon the shouts and screams would stop and be replaced by loud footsteps coming towards the bathroom that draco lay concealed behind the locked door._

'**_Twinkle twinkle little star' _**

_BANG BANG BANG Draco's father then would bang on the door repeatedly shouting for him to open up._

'**_How I wonder what you are'_**

"_Open up you fucking little shit!" still the rhythmic movements and sway of Draco's cold body continued._

'**_Up above the world s high'_**

_The door would shake as Lucius put more force into knocking, he yelled loudly as he beat on the door before grabbing for his wand and muttering an unlocking spell_

'**_Like a diamond in the sky'_**

_Lucius would run across the room to his huddled son lifting him off the ground with ease. _

_He always heard the quietly whispered rhyme that escaped his son's lips and slapped him across the face._

**_Twinkle twinkle little star' _**

"_SHUT UP BOY! WHOS BEEN FILLING YOUR HEAD WITH THESE WORTHLESS SONGS?!" Hit after hit would come to Draco as he cried silently. Lucius would never stop at this point. he always too far gone to start caring now, hit after hit would come never ceasing Draco's vision then blurred and his heart beat became loud in his ears. _

It was like this every time, each time his father was wronged or made to look a fool, he would take it out on his wife, and then his son.

Since Draco was a year old this had been happening, the beatings would get worst as Draco got older. Soon he would try and fight back, but Lucius was a powerful wizard and a strong man. And each time Draco would get beat worst then before.

Not that he ever new how else life could be. Since the day he was born he had lived with a violent man crazed by his own failures. Trying to mould his son to be just like him, little did he know his beatings weren't helping but were breaking Draco down from the inside.

Even at Hogwarts Draco couldn't escape his father's idiotic beliefs and prejudices, they followed him everywhere he went, like a small child following his mother, they wouldn't leave.

Draco threw his head back so it rested on the cold tiles.

White.

'_Why is everything always so bloody white when our world is covered in darkness?'_ he wanted to cry out and smash things but yet he sat there, perfectly still gazing into nothingness.

It was almost like he could hear the screams again; hear the heartbreaking sobs that would echo into every room.

The pleas that wouldn't stop.

The crying in vain to make it all go away.

His father wanted him to be like this. To take pleasure in others destruction, he took pleasure in making people cry, beating them until they stop moving.

'_What fun could that possibly be?'_

Draco's body shook again as he reminisced about the harsh blows that seemed to rip his skin apart. The ache that would come and the swell that wouldn't leave. And then he remembered the darkness.

The warm, pleasant black like a vial that would cover everything as he fell from his fathers grasp and slid onto the cold floor. He remembered the calmness of being surrounded by nothing, no sound, no breath, nothingness. Pure bliss.

Often Draco would try and find that bliss again. When his father wasn't near. He would try and cover himself in the dark vial of nothingness, and he would always find it. Hidden away in his dorm he would find it for a while, while the others are out partying, or eating dinner, perhaps at classes, draco would be found perfectly still, lifeless, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Madam Pomfrey the school nurse would always see that he wasn't where he was supposed to be and find him. She always tried to help him but he would push her away tell her he was fine; tell her he wouldn't do it again. _'Always the same lies, always the same excuses.'_ And the nurse would always just nod and tell him to drink his potion.

Nobody else knew. Nobody else ever realised that the Slytherin price wasn't ever around. Nobody ever noticed that he would return to school hiding cuts and bruises, nobody ever noticed that in public Lucius would act like a saint but still Draco would flinch at every touch.

Draco's flinches and fear of his father infuriated Lucius even more, causing him to beat and beat and beat until he bled. Until Draco would see the world covered in a pure black vial again. The time of bliss changes, maybe and hour, maybe a minute, but it was always there. The nothingness Draco longed for but could never find it forever.

Tears stung the back of his eyes. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't let the tears drop. He stopped crying when he was nine, he didn't care what happened to him anymore, he hadn't really know other people so he didn't know that life wasn't supposed to be like that. He never understood why in books people always said they were happy with their perfect lives, but never explained why it was perfect; all he knew of family was violence and pain.

Then he came to Hogwarts, a _'home away from home'_ some people referred to it as, all draco ever named it was school, he didn't want another home. When he got there that day on the first of September he saw crowds of other people laughing and joking with friends. He was shanked by two think headed imbeciles that couldn't even count to ten properly. His fathers choice, not his own. He would rather have chosen for himself.

Then he saw Harry Potter. The cause of most of his father's beatings, if this boy hadn't ever existed then he wouldn't have been beaten so profusely. It wasn't like he wanted to become friends with him when they spoke outside the great hall, but he was doing as his father told him to. Like he always did.

But when Potter turned him down, it infuriated him, he didn't even want this boy to be one of his cronies but he still had to ask. He embarrassed him in front of everyone. First he is the cause to most of Draco's beatings, and then he humiliated him in front of people he would have to go to school with for the rest of his schooling.

The sorting hat sensed it, he could feel the anger coming off of Draco in waves, and he could sense Draco's thirst for revenge against potter. So before t even touched his head it yelled out Slytherin.

Draco sunk is head into his hands as he began the rhythmic rocking. So many things begin to go wrong because of one thing. _'For me? It was Potter conquering over Voldemort when he was just a baby. Or maybe it was before that, my birth perhaps? Or perhaps my fathers birth? Or maybe even before that, when the Malfoy name turned evil, or maybe even when the Malfoy family first came to be. But hey! Why stop there? Why not the dawn of time! Yeah that's it, that's when everything became bad for me.'_ Draco threw his head back and slammed it against the cold tiles on the wall_. 'I want no pity party, I don't seek for peoples sympathy, I'm a realist, plane and simple, and I just understand more then a lot of people.'_

Draco continued to look into nothingness as he wondered over when things went wrong, he could blame it on his violent upbringing, the beatings that scared him for life, and the wounds that seemed to not heal, the memories that haunt him in his sleep, all these things come into it. But then he realised it wasn't just that. It wasn't just his past.

_Potter, Weasley, Granger. _

Three people who hated him more then Voldemort. Maybe he did deserve it; maybe he had been a bastard to them.

Potter, _the boy-who-lived_. The bane of my existence the thorn in my side, the boy who has so many friends and so many admires who worship the ground he walks on. I hate him, I hate him for being happy, I hate him for having friends, I hate him for knowing what its like to be happy.

Weasley, _the side kick_, the boy who will be there for potter no matter what, the boy who came from a poor wizarding family, his father, a ministry lowlife, obsessed with muggles. Too many children with too little money. I hate him as well, I hate the fact that no matter what he will always have his family to fall back on, I've seen them all, with there flaming red hair and their toothy grins, I hate the fact he's so fucking happy with his loving family and his fucking loving friends.

And then there's Granger, _the filthy mudblood_, the brain of Gryffindor. From what I've heard she comes from a rich muggle family, the only thing I could think to poke fun at and it's not even that bad! So I stoop so low as to say her bloods dirty, _'how the hell can blood be dirty?! Tell me that father! Why are we sooo much better then her? At least she doesn't kill people weaker then her.'_

I hate her, I hate the fact she's so god dam perfect, with her perfect smile, and her perfect body, and her perfect family and her perfect grades, I hate the fact she has people who act like brothers to her to look after her, I hate the fact she see's right through my mask. I hate the fact I can't have her, I hate the fact she's so fucking beautiful but she doesn't know it.

If I could have her for one day, show her that I'm not as bad as I pretend I am. But I think she already knows that, and she still hates me. I hate her! I hate her more then I hate my father, or my mother for bringing me into this world, I hate her more then Potter! I hate her so much I can't stand it.

Draco wanted to shout out, scream at the top of his voice. But then he's wake them, he'd wake Granger from her perfect dreamless sleep in her head girl room. So close yet so far. _'How can she see so far into me when no one else can?'_ her voice rang through his head.

'_You're nothing but a scared little boy! You just pretend to be this big bad Slytherin king, when you just don't care, your just scared'_ one of her many, they often have fights in the shared common room, which s attached to the prefects bathroom. Once Weasley heard her and I fighting, while he was having a shower and started cheering her on. It made me sick to the stomach.

Draco curled up into a ball, still sitting in the same place as he was two hours ago.

'_I hate it all, I hate everything to do with life, I hate these white walls that should be in a prison, I hate my hair, I hate my father, I hate my house, I hate this school, I hate granger for knowing I'm just scared, I hate everything to do with everything, I hate the way people believe they know me but don't at all, I hate the fact I hat to be perfect, I hate everything I have ever know or ever done! Why the fuck do I have to do all this?' _he threw his head back and closed his eyes to the dark room.

'_Perfect, what is it? Nothings perfect, so why do I have to pretend I am? Grangers perfect, and I hate it. I wish I could tell her I love her, I wish I could tell her I hate the fact she knew the truth, I wish'_ Draco wanted to laugh out loud at the thought _'wishes don't come true, wishes have never been real. Wishes are just something good parents make you believe in so that you don't ask for things you want.' _

'_You're just a scared little boy!'_ Draco sighed again as he thought of her saying that.

"How bloody right you are" he said before he slowly rose from the ground and walked towards the mirror.

He gazed at himself, cold emotionless eyes, hard facial features, pale skin, platinum blond hair. Pale pink lips that haven't smiles since he was a baby. He closed his eyes looking away from his stony grey eyes.

'_just a scared little boy!'_

'_worthless pile of shit'_

'_Bloody ingrate'_

'_Scared little boy'_

'_shut up boy'_

'_sit down and shut up'_

The voices rang threw his head and he saw Hermione looking back at him through the mirror, her image replaced his own. _'Your nothing but a scared little boy Draco Malfoy, you'll end up just like your father, a cruel heartless, death eater bastard.'_ Draco shouted out and covered his ears but the accusations and shouts continued. He forced his fist forward and smashed the mirror, shards of broken glass rained down. But the voiced continued, his father, Hermione. They didn't go away. He fumbled around with the shards on glass on the washstand laying his hands on a large piece.

Then he slowly raised it to his pale white wrist. Forcing it through his skin and into his vain. Feeling the release as he watch the crimson red rivers cascade down his hand. The voices began to fade and he felt no regret for what he did, soon he was enveloped into the darkness, the pitch black vial covered everything. And swept over him.

He sunk to the floor and watched as the crimson liquid covered the white tiles and hand basin. His last conscious thought before he slipt into nothingness was _'I can't be perfect like Hermione.'_

**A/N** This is another story by me! It's complete and he wont be coming back to life.

I hope you liked it, now that you've read it, you now have to review it.

Thanks for reading and thanks if you review.


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